I exhaled through my nose, hands flexing once at my sides before I stilled them. “I’m not leaving,” I said, standing my ground. There was no backing out of it now.
“She asked for space.” Micah’s gaze held mine, unblinking. “I’m trying to protect her.”
“So am I.” My voice came out firm, but I didn’t soften it. And I knew, as I held Micah’s gaze, that she’d heard exactly what I hadn’t meant to give away. She knew Teddy too well not to. “I care about her, Micah.”
Micah studied my face, weighing whether she could trust me. Her jaw ticked. She took a deep breath, resigned, and whatever line I’d just crossed stayed firmly behind me.
“The training changing rooms are empty,” she said. “She went there because she didn’t want the girls to see.”
That was all I needed; I didn’t wait for anything else. I moved, urgency buzzing under my skin. The door stood ajar as I pushed inside.
Benches bare, lights off, the room was quiet. But there was a dull static sound from the showers running.
My heart stuttered as I turned toward the stalls, and then a sound so broken carried over the water it stopped me where I stood. It wasn’t loud. It was as though she was trying not to be heard, and the knowledge that it was coming from her made my blood turn cold.
I pulled back the curtain to find her crumpled on the floor, fully clothed, hair plastered to her face, shoulders shaking as the spray poured over her, and something in me gave way as I sank to my knees beside her.
“Baby.”
She flinched at my voice, but when her eyes found mine, the fight went out of her, her mouth trembling as she tried and failed to hold herself together.
Everything in me wanted to put her back together.
Every single part of me needed to soothe her.
Water soaked through my clothes as I moved closer, blocking the spray with my body. She collapsed into me without hesitation, and I grabbed her with all my strength.
I ran my hands up and down her back, over and over, as she fell apart in my arms. I didn’t know how to make this better, but I wasn’t letting go.
“He’s missing, my dad,” she sobbed against me. “They don’t know where he is. They don’t know anything.”
Her face pressed into my neck as the water kept falling around us.
“I’ve done this my whole life,” she said, words rough and tumbling. “Deployments. Waiting. Things might not be great between us, but he’s always been there. This feels different. I knew it the second Micah told me.”
She sobbed into my skin, and I hoped some of the pain would transfer to me, so I could hold it for her.
“I can’t lose him,” she whispered. “He’s all I have.”
Her body shook against mine, grief tearing through her in waves she wasn’t trying to control anymore.
“You’re not doing this by yourself,” I said, the truth of it settling deep as I spoke. “Not now. Not any of it.”
She stilled just enough to lift her head.
Her eyes found mine, searching, raw and unguarded in a way I’d never seen before. For a second, I thought she was going to say thank you. Or nothing at all.
Instead, she swallowed hard.
“That’s not true,” she said, more tears filling her eyes.
I frowned. “Teddy—”
“I know how this goes,” she pushed on, the words spilling out like they’d been waiting for the smallest opening. “I know I’m going to lose him. And I know I’m going to lose you to Ireland.” She spoke through another sob, breaths heaving. “I’ve heard the whispers. I know what’s coming, Connor.”
She clutched at my shirt again, fingers curling tight, like she was bracing herself for impact that hadn’t happened yet.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” she whispered. Hearing her say it like it was inevitable made my heart go still. So, I closed the distance between us, pressing my forehead to hers, my hands firm at her back, keeping her close to me.
